


Mochaccino

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 11:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Janice meets an icon.
Relationships: Janice Rand/Nyota Uhura
Kudos: 10





	Mochaccino

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even though she prepares it herself, the coffee on the _Enterprise_ is never _quite_ as good as it is on Earth, at least when that Terran coffee’s served properly, hot and fresh, preferably in the light, bubbling atmosphere of a pleasant coffee shop. Janice’s favourite is by far the beanery just outside of Starfleet headquarters—a convenient location when they’re only docking for a few days. While the senior officers go up for their meetings and the rest spill out into the busy streets of San Francisco, Janice beelines for the place she’s been longing for since they first left orbit. She hasn’t even had a chance to go back to her apartment and change yet; she’s right off the ship. A few others around the medium-sized café are also sporting uniforms, but they’re all clustered in groups together, and a lot more wear the current bright red jumper of the Academy.

Janice gets into line behind a woman in a yellow summer dress with pure black hair drawn up in a short style but with plenty of volume at the back. Bright green hoop earrings stand out brilliantly against her dark skin, and she sways lightly back and forth as she waits, softly humming to the low music droning through the speakers. 

She reaches the marble counter and orders a blended Vulcan plomeek spice latte, and Janice’s heart nearly stops in her chest. _She recognizes that voice._

The woman taps in her credits, then walks away from the register, over to the counter where the finished drink will be presented. Janice’s wide eyes follow her movements. As soon as the woman turns around, Janice knows she’s right. It’s _Nyota Uhura._ The most amazing singer on the planet. Maybe in the whole Federation. Janice has every single one of her records and listens to them often. Uhura has the most angelic voice, the most thoughtful lyrics, the most exquisite beats. She can make Janice laugh, dance, and cry. And she looks every bit as beautiful in person as she does on the occasional broadcast interview she does. 

The Tellarite behind the counter barks, “Order!”

Janice snaps back to attention. Flustered, she fishes her steel travel mug out of the bag at her side, and somehow stumbles through, “Coffee, black.” She doesn’t normally take it so simple, but her brain’s short-circuited and she can’t think of anything more complicated. The Tellarite glares at her and shoves a PADD forward—Janice hurriedly taps in her credit information, then sucks in a breath and stiffly walks over to the counter.

Uhura glances at her. Janice tries to smile in a way that doesn’t scream ‘crazy fan.’ Uhura returns that smile, soft and sweet, something that looks just as right on her as the thin eyeliner and pale lip gloss. Janice has been halfway across the galaxy, and she’s never seen anything prettier. 

Uhura’s eyes flicker down Janice’s body, stalling at the hem of her short uniform, then rove up to her face. Uhura asks, “Do you work for Starfleet?”

“Yes,” Janice answers, somehow not stuttering, even though Uhura’s breathy voice sounds like music even in prose. Then Janice summons all her courage and thrusts out her hand. She tells herself that she’s met dozens of aliens, faced countless dangers, and she can handle one living legend. She offers, “Yeoman Janice Rand. I’m... I’m such a big fan, Ms. Uhura.”

Uhura laughs. The twinkling sound makes Janice’s heart skip a beat. Uhura takes her hand and gives it a gentle shake. “Thank you, Janice. That’s nice to hear. I’m a fan of what you’re doing up there too.” She gestures vaguely at the ceiling, and it takes Janice a second to clue into what that means. _Space_. Right. Usually, Janice considers herself incredibly lucky—she has one of the most fascinating jobs that she could ever hope for. Somehow, it doesn’t seem as cool as Uhura’s. 

Janice can only stammer, “Thanks.”

“I’ve actually been thinking of applying, you know. To Starfleet.”

Janice blinks, dumbstruck. She feels compelled to say, “But you can’t stop singing! Your voice is... is...”

“Oh, I’ll keep singing,” Uhura promises. “But I think it’s time to do something else with my life. Something meaningful. Do you find Starfleet fulfilling?”

Extremely. It takes Janice a second to formulate an answer, because she’s started entertaining the wild daydream of the two of them serving on a starship together, maybe even becoming _friends_. Uhura couldn’t possibly be a yeoman—she’s too important. It’s hard to picture her in security or engineering, but perhaps she could do medical—she’s very kind. Or she could be a captain; she’s intelligent and confident. Or maybe communications, where her perfect voice would go to good use. Janice finally answers, “I... yes, actually. I serve on a starship—the _Enterprise_. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

Uhura’s eyes go a little wide at the mention of the Federation flagship. Janice’s stomach flutters. “Really? You must have the most incredible stories!”

Janice opens her mouth to answer, but a drink slams onto the counter, the Andorian barista deadpanning, “Blended Vulcan plomeek spice latte.”

Uhura chimes, “Thank you,” and takes it. Janice’s stomach twists. That’s it. It’s over. Their magical moment has run out of time. Her coffee slides onto the counter a split second later, infinitely easier to make.

Janice collects it and looks at Uhura, not wanting it to end. Uhura asks, “I’m sorry, I know this is sudden, but I just have so many questions. Do you think I could possibly trouble you for a tour? Of their headquarters, I mean; I wouldn’t impose on your ship.”

Without even thinking, Janice blurts, “Sure. If you’ll sing me _The Man Trap._”

Uhura laughs, “I’d be delighted,” and offers her arm. Beaming, Janice takes it.


End file.
